I still remember
by ViciousVigilante
Summary: This is my very first Warcraft fic. It is a story of a probable relationship of Sylvanas and Kael'Thas before the events of WC3. I hope you will enjoy the reading and will not forget to review the story after you read!


**This story was inspired by two things: first, Sylvanas's ring (wowwiki/Band_of_the_Ranger-General), and second - the bow still** **wielded by her (wowwiki********/Sunstrider's_Longbow). I've been pondering on this fic for like a year - and wrote it in a single hour.****  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own Sylvanas, Kael'Thas, Anasterion, Dath'Remar, as well as all the Warcraft universe. Now, when we are done with formalities, please enjoy your reading:**

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I still remember everything, my prince.

Colours still dance in front of my eyes... Violet curtains, golden tapestries – and the infinite pallet of costumes and dresses. Dancing figures still flutter in my mind, twisted by the ruthless time... The ball – it was your father's birthday – seems to have happened yesterday. The ball where our hands first touched – and our glances first met.

At first there were just words – light, weightless, meaningless. Words dispersing in the air, not reaching the other's ears... Nice to meet you, General... Nice to meet you, Your Highness... Words – they did not matter. Our gazes did. From the first moment they wouldn't be torn from each other – forged together with a transparent chain... Would you be so kind as to let me invite you for a dance? The pleasure is mine.

Then, there was no place for words – they would not squeeze in between our bodies, pressing together, flowing together, merging together... One single entity, clad in a veil of Light, away from the piercing looks... My head resting on your shoulder, your flaxen hair brushing my cheek like a forest breeze... Let's leave here – a mere nod as an answer; a nod felt, not seen. Your fingers drawing intricate figures in the air... a purple flash – and we were gone.

It was your room – I still remember every carving on the wood of the walls... And there was а fire burning in it. And there was a fire burning in your hands, releasing me from the harness of the dress... And there was a fire flaring up under your skin, emerging slowly out of the ceremonial mantle... And there was a fire raving inside me, curving and bending my body under your ardent intrusion... And from then on, there was a fire devouring my heart and soul – and turning them to ashes.

It happened again and again – in your room, in my boudoir, in your Academy, in my headquarters... in the thick of the forest, as if we were our kaldorei ancestors... In a field tent in the midst of war, our bodies still covered in blood of the greenskins... and always your magics and my stealth kept us from those around – and did not allow rumours to spread. And so it recurred, although I knew that every time the end drew nearer and nearer. I could understand everything: you had to devote your life to politics, and in time find a spouse of magical ancestry... I could understand – but the pain wouldn't let me accept. The pain, that each day grew more and more unbearable – and almost buried me under its dark mass the day you had to go.

Again it were words – though they could express nothing we felt. I hope you will succeed in defending our interests in Kirin Tor... I'm sure the defense of our kingdom is left in safe keeping... For us, they meant nothing. We drank in our last touches – wishing to keep them forever. I move my hand slightly – the engraved ring slips from my finger. Take it – as a token. You make a pass and utter arcane syllables – a long, curving bow appears in your hands. Take it, please. It belonged to Dath'Remar – and I'm sure you shall make use of it. My eyelids shut – and it is only the warm wood just touched by your fingers... I never saw you again.

Even now, my prince, this remains in my eyes – all these years pressed into a single moment of happiness and suffering. Even now, when the undead are advancing, when the Scourge is lashing across our lands – and even your spells wouldn't aid us, if you were here. But, except the colours, the sounds, the feelings – nothing else remains. Nothing, except a gaping void in my soul. As if I were... forsaken.


End file.
